To The Darkness Bound Under Rewrite
by Another Douche on the internet
Summary: AU OoTP At his lowest point, Harry Potter glimpses a ray of hope. Unfortunately, that ray of hope is enmeshed in the darkest shadow imaginable - Voldemort.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Obviously I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs toJ.K. Rowling. I'm simply playing around with her creation. Besides I doubt Harry would be such a bitch if I owned the Harry Potter universe.

**Author's Note: **This is my first attempt at fan fiction. It would be much worse if it weren't for my fantastic betas Mors, Kolskit and Andromalius, who is known on this site as Kasyapa. Without Andromalius' help, I doubt you would be seeing this.

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It is consternating, how few people knew the name that I had retained through my youth, and much of my adulthood, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was a name known to a circle with a very short radius – just as I desired. It was one of the hallmarks of Dark Lords, that what they desired often became reality.

For the mantle of Dark Lord was a title that I had come to relish. A mere handful of the most powerful, ambitious, and cunning wizards that ever lived had claimed the title, and now it had fallen to me to stand among such distinguished company such as Grindelwald, my predecessor, though I was better than each and every of them, having achieved the one goal they all lusted after; immortality. However, it has never weighed as heavily upon my shoulders as it did now after I hear part of this damned prophecy. My servant Severus Snape had been ejected rather forcibly from whatever pub he frequented only midway through its recitation.

Oh the fallacies of fate. Upon hearing a part of this prophecy, I had concentrated all efforts towards eliminating the child who possessed the power to vanquish me. There only two couples who had thrice defied me, the Longbottoms and the Potters and they both fit the criteria of the prophecy. I discovered it could be either child, as both Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were born as the seventh month died.

The choice I made was not by own.

A secret held even closer to my chest than the very name I bore for years involved Lily Potter. Not many knew of the fact that I had once desired an heir. Someone I could trust implicitly without the fear of them turning their back on me for their own gains. I had charmed many women and more than one was willing to bear my heir, but one in particular had taken my interest. Her name had been Acacia Romanov, proud daughter of Grindelwald's faithful right hand witch. There were a few reasons she caught my attention; not least among them was her strength of will and her magic, but she was also possessed extraordinary personal beauty with her dark-red hair and emerald eyes.

After Grindelwald's fall at the hands of Dumbledore and her mother's subsequent death, Acacia Romanov had been forced to flee Bulgaria, from those who had suffered at the hands of Grindelwald. They wanted their revenge on the daughter of Grindelwald's most loyal and prized follower. She had come to England where Grindelwald hadn't made much of a mark. Choosing Knockturn Alley to hide due to its shady reputation and its cheap nature. Its reputation preceded it even overseas.

I first encountered her when I was employed at Borgin & Burkes. She appeared to be just as seedy as numerous other hags, who frequented Knockturn Alley. However, a look closer through means of Legilimency, an art that allowed one to peer into an unguarded mind and realize their most guarded secrets or their greatest fear. I learned of her heritagem and the truth that she was hiding from those out for her blood. I didn't confront her about it, but continued observing her. She had gained my attention, because of her wits and resourcefulness, but I would be lying if I didn't confess her form, the one I had seen, played a part as well. I tried many of my usual methods at charming women, but none worked on her.

It became a matter of my pride, and I vowed to myself that Acacia Romanov would be the one who bore my heir. I didn't act against her in any way though I did form somewhat of a friendship with her. I enjoyed her cynical nature, and sense of humor, because they were similar to my own. Being her friend also allowed me to keep a close watch on her, and I made sure no other male would get near Acacia. Eight months had passed without any incident when a man from Bulgaria showed in up in Knockturn Alley enquiring about Acacia Romanov. The man was Todor Ditschec, one of the most influential men in Bulgaria. His reason to come after Acacia was to avenge the death of his firstborn son. Todor's son, Nikolai Ditshec, was killed by Acacia's mother.

Todor found about Acacia being in England from one of the various thieves of Knockturn Alley. What made this particular thief special was his assistance to Acacia in finding a a place to conceal herself. The thief was rewarded handsomely for informing Todor of Acacia's whereabouts, but it had been for naught, because I killed him as soon as I learned of what he had done. I took the money from the dead thief and went to find Acacia. When I found her she was dueling with Todor and some of his lackeys, but she was slowly being beaten back by the numbers against her. Together we killed most of the men, but regrettably Todor and two of his companions were able to flee after vowing to kill Acacia.

I volunteered to protect her in return for something, and seized the opportunity presented to me. I made an offer, and she readily agreed. She would be my consort, and bear my heir. I would provide her with shelter and money until the birth of my heir. I had no intention of committing myself to the woman, because I was ready to make my bid at becoming the darkest of Dark Lords. Maybe: She realized my intentions, but seemed to share my indifference_**.**_

When I learned the child was going to be a female I was disappointed. As a Dark Lord I would not have much use for a female heir, given that the magical world still clung to its patriarchal system. The thought of killing them both crossed my mind, but I ultimately couldn't shed my own blood. Thus I gave Acacia enough funds for her to flee with her child. The Romanov family was a respectable and old pureblood family that still possessed significant wealth before Grindewald's rise to power, but much of their fortune had been squandered in Grindelwald's campaign. The Romanov coffers had been emptied to an extent where their sole heir had to ask for money to flee. Acacia had fled to the muggle world and from what I had learned she had lived out the rest of her life as a muggle.

Years later Lily Potter appeared to fight against me. To say I was astonished would perchance be a stupendous understatement. Fighting for the Order Of Phoenix was a woman who resembled Acacia Romanov, but with some of my own features. The daughter I had abandoned many years ago had come back but the chances of a family union were sparse. I did however turn my attention towards assembling knowledge I could gain of her. What I found left me somewhat frustrated. She had married James Potter, a man who had been a thorn in my side for some time, using the Potter holdings and contacts against me. I had offered James Potter the chance join my ranks before this, hearing about his talents from my sources inside Hogwarts. I had also offered Sirius Black the chance to join my ranks too. I assumed due to his family he would jump at the chance to join me, and knowing that Black and Potter were inseparable I thought I would gain two new talented followers.

It was one of the few occasions when I was wrong. They refused. I, unwilling to suffer this embarrassment, dispatched a few of the younger recruits against them to punish the two for their insolence, but the two masterfully defeated six of my Death Eaters.

A Potter had defied me for the first time, but certainly not the last.

The Blacks had their own way of punishing their heir's rebellion. They had disowned their firstborn son and immediately offered their younger son Regulus Black to my service in reparation.

The next time the Order met my Death Eaters in battle; I sought out the Potters and offered them the chance to join me once more. The Potters had refused my generous offer, thus each defying me once more. I did not inform Lily of my relationship with her. The only people who knew were me and Acacia Romanov and apparently Acacia had taken the secret to her grave. After the Potters had refused my generous offer I decided a little revenge was in order.

I decided to take away the things that were precious to James starting with his family's ancient dwelling. I still to this day remember the difficulty I had locating their ancestral home, but like all things obstacles are never quite sufficient when thrown in my way. I was surprised with the warding around the manor, for it was better warded than Malfoy Manor which was the most guarded manor I knew_**. **_I hired some of the best curse breakers and it had taken me an entire day to break through the wards surrounding the manor, but when the wards fell I had personally razed the once beautiful Manor to the ground, and sowed the earth it had once stood upon with salt in a gesture of hatred.

I enjoyed it thoroughly. Defiance was not without a price, after all.

Though I still didn't learn anything about the Potter ancestry for the place had been completely devoid when I entered it. The Potters had never flaunted their wealth, but most knew it was vast. The Potters were one of the most respected pure-blood families in existence. Since I didn't know the extent of the Potter fortune, learning that the Potters were a line descended from the line of Gryffindor was beyond my reach for now. After the razing of his ancestral Manor James Potter had become a larger thorn in my side than before. Potter along with Sirius Black had captured 12 Death Eaters in retaliation and destroyed several of the Death Eater hideouts. Auror James Potter had been feared by many of my younger Death Eaters and even by my Inner Circle, though they hid it well.

Then I met Wormtail, the man was a pathetic excuse for a wizard, but not without his uses. He was weak and insecure in his belief that his friends were better than him, one that I whole-heartedly agreed with. Peter always tried to hide behind the most powerful wizard around. Since I had taken the mantle of the most powerful wizard Peter Pettigrew wanted to get into my good graces. I accepted Peter Pettigrew, because I realized the man could be a spy in the Order for me. It was one of the better moves I had made because little weak Peter had become a wealth of information about the Order Of Phoenix. I learned many of the Orders' plans before the Order could even put them into effect. It surprised me that Peter had lasted this long as my spy in the Order. I thought someone might have suspected him by now, because Peter Pettigrew did not possess an ounce of cunning inside him. Now that I had heard part of the prophecy, and identified my targets which were the Potters, Peter Pettigrew would prove his worth once again. I extracted every bit of information about the Potters from Pettigrew. I knew their weaknesses and their strengths. I knew the Potters perhaps better than they knew themselves.

Wormtail was also among the handful who was privy to the hiding place of the Potters once they went into hiding. The Potters were going to hide under the Fidelius Charm and I assumed Dumbledore was going to be the Secret-Keeper, but Wormtail informed me the Potters were going to choose Black instead. Lily Potter refused to let Dumbledore become the Potter's Secret-Keeper. I felt a strange surge of pride well inside me.

My daughter had seen through the mask that Dumbledore presented to the world . She recognized that if she let Dumbledore become their Secret Keeper he would try to make the Potter child his weapon, the old man would only let people who would mold the boy onto the right path near him. Even if I felt pride for my daughter's decision I realized I would have to find a way to turn the situation to my favor. I expected to kill Black because I knew Black wouldn't betray the Potters no matter how much torture I inflicted upon him.

The Imperius Curse and Veritaserum were useless because the Secret-Keeper would have to willingly divulge the information. Even Legilimency did not work where the Fidelius Charm's secret was concerned. The only way for the secret of the Fidelius Charm to become weaker was the death of the Secret-Keeper. With Black's death the secret of the Fidelus Charm would become dilated and Wormtail would be able to divulge the secret.

I also tried a different plan; one that would ease my work. I knew from Wormtail's information about the Potters that they were friends with a werewolf named Remus Lupin. With the Order already suspecting a traitor in their midst, I instructed Wormtail to point towards the werewolf. Peter played his part well, many in the Order now suspected that Lupin was the spy because of his lycanthropy even more important then this, though, was that Sirius Black now suspected his childhood friend. A few days later Peter Pettigrew had informed me that the Potter's were switching their Secret-Keeper to him at the last moment so everyone (especially Lupin) would be fooled. After all, no one expected weak little Peter to be the Secret-Keeper. It was a fool-proof plan except for the little fact that Peter Pettigrew served me. I promised Peter when I killed the Potters I would reward him and Peter would not have to have to play the role of the spy anymore.

I waited an entire week before I attacked the Potters. During that 'grace period', chaos reigned over the Wizarding World. Each day I substituted many a deaths for the wait I had to endure to finish the Potters. For the attack on the Potters would be on October 31st, Halloween. It was symbolic and somehow appropriate for what I was about to do.

When I first entered, I erected Anti-Apparition and Portkey wards so no one could escape. As I stepped into the house I met a wandless James Potter. My son-in-law, though he didn't know it, and never would. I disposed of James Potter quickly, which was rather unfortunate as I had actually looked forward to the challenge of dueling the man who had opposed me for so long. I followed the woman, desperately trying to escape with her child, and as I looked at her, for the first time I felt hesitancy in killing someone. Never had I been in such a conundrum, to kill or not to kill, my answer to that had always been the former. Then why did I feel hesitancy in killing Lily Potter? Was this what Dumbledore referred to whenever he tried to give me the lecture of love being the greatest power? I ended the traitorous straying of my thoughts, and raised my wand. I granted Lily Potter the chance to live though.

As the woman finally saw me she said, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry," and I laughed, but it was a shrill laugh. I had often heard that fate was cruel and as I looked at the woman in front of me, I realized just how true that saying was because the only thing my daughter had ever wanted from me, I couldn't grant her. At that moment I realized what having a child was like and I ruthlessly crushed that feeling for it was a feeling of weakness that I could not afford to indulge in. I had too much work to accomplish, and I purged that anguish from my mind.

"Stand aside you silly girl...stand aside now." I whispered quietly, menacingly. I knew the child had to die, but I would give my daughter the chance to live.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead," the woman asked hysterically, "Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy..." she pleaded now. I decided I would kill her now, satisfied in knowing I had at least given her the chance to live. I raised my wand and uttered the two words that would end my daughter's life, and mark her son with a protection not even I could break. With merely two words my daughter was dead, by my own hand.

To think that a Potter would still defy me, even after I committed the unthinkable…

As I stepped past the now lifeless body of my daughter, I saw the boy for the first time. He had the same eyes as his mother and grandmother, yet I didn't give it a second thought. When I had first heard the prophecy, I thought I would mark the boy's death by creating my 6th horcrux, but as I saw the dead body of my own daughter I decided against it. It would be as a last favor to my daughter that I would not make the boy's corpse a horcrux. That was as far as my pity for the boy would go. He would have to die even if he was my grandson. My last thought before I raised my wand to perform the killing curse, was the irony that the male heir I always wanted would be the one with the power to defeat me. "Avada Kedavra." I uttered the fatal words in a loud, clear voice, and then I watched in morbid curiosity as something I thought impossible happened. Pain beyond anything I had ever imagined filled me as the curse actually reflected off the boy and struck me instead. I finally realized the folly of my plan.

I fled from the house that night and I waited for one of my loyal followers to come and free me from this terrible form. Truthfully, I had no real idea what I was. I was not a spirit I wasn't even a ghost. I fled to Albania, where I had found the Diadem Of Ravenclaw many years ago. I waited deep within the forests, where the sunlight could not pierce the canopy of the trees. For ten, maddening years I waited, but to no avail. Then, a traveling hopeful by the name of Quirinus Quirrell came across me. Quirrell was a vainglorious fool with dreams of grandeur and it quickly became apparent that, at long last, something was starting to go right. Quirrell was swayed easily into helping me by promises of great rewards and riches. I accompanied Quirrell back to England to search for a way to get the fabled Sorcerer's Stone. The stone gave it's user immortality and boundless gold. I knew after my defeat at the hands of Potter that Dumbledore would want the stone protected.

The year culminated towards my encountering Harry Potter. I felt emptiness instead of hatred as I stared from the back of Quirrell's head at the frightened Gryffindor that refused to be cowed. I offered him the chance to join me, but it was a token effort. I instinctively recognized that now was not the time. He was a mere first-year just introduced to magic, and I, his grandfather, was imbedded in the back of his traitorous professor's head. A parasite.

No, it wasn't the time.

The next year was the worst for me. I continued researching ways to gain a corporeal form, but for every ritual I needed someone to assist me. My hope began to fail when the next year fared no better for me then the last. Then, one evening, a rat suddenly approached me and transformed, to my astonishment, into Wormtail who went babbling on and on about his loyalty to me. Employing a meager amount of Legilimency, all that I could manage in my current state, I discovered the little rat had run from those he once called friends. Black had escaped Azkaban, something that was thought to be impossible, and revealed Wormtail's dirty little secret to Potter, but the sniveling traitor had escaped before he could be sent to Azkaban and ran to me once more. The only thing that saved him from horrendous punishment was the fact he brought along the most important possession I ever owned.

Yew, 13 1/2 inches long, the core consisting of a single phoenix feather given by Dumbledore's pet phoenix. It was my wand ...

My wand. It seemed only yesterday I acquired it from Ollivander.

_I made my way over to Ollivander's Wand Shop, having already picked up all of the books and potions supplies required for a First year. Most of them were second hand, to my chagrin, but if the orphanage had taught me anything, it was that gratitude was given where it was due. _

_This was the purchase I looked forward to the most. There was something that was my own, something no one shared with me. It would be the possession that I would most jealously guard as a dragon would its most prized gemstone. The shop had a sign with peeling gold letters reading "Ollivander's" over the door. It also informed me that the shop was founded in 382 B.C., denoting it as a lasting legacy that predated even the birth of Jesus Christ, the legacy demanded respect._

_I enter, and survey the small dingy shop with something akin to surprise – an establishment of such age in that condition? These thoughts were swept away by the piercing, silver eyes of the man who greeted me,_

_"Good Afternoon, Sir. Welcome to Ollivanders, the finest wand makers in Europe. What is your name?"_

_To me, it is the million pound, or as wizards call them galleons, question. What is my name? The sound of it stung for I dearly wished that my mother, whoever she was, had named me something else. Something less… normal._

_None of that reaches my face._

_"Tom Riddle" I say pleasantly. _

_"Well then, Mr. Riddle, let's get you measured up. Now, which is your wand arm?" He procures a tape measure. I eye it curiously. _

_"I'm ambidextrous, Mr. Ollivander." Ollivander peered down at me, but merely smiled. _

_"Is there something wrong, sir?" I ask. Ollivander looks thoughtful but answers my question nevertheless._

_"It is an unusual ability, but not unheard of. According to studies by the Unspeakables made available to us wand-wrights, there are more Muggles with that trait than wizards. However, the ratio between them and the respective entire populations are the same – exactly the same. One out of a hundred thousand. Curious is it not?" He looks directly at me. "Herpo The Foul and Morgana Le Fay were but two of them."_

_If possible my eagerness for buying a wand increases even more. If I'm destined to be powerful, then my wand must be all the more special. Distinctive. _

_As if sensing my excitement, Ollivander instructs me to extend my right arm. He also informs me, "Every Ollivander's wand has a core of a Powerful magical substance, Mr. Riddle. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. However, the most important thing is that the wand chooses the wizard, Mr.Riddle."_

_"Holly, 12 1/2 inches, and Unicorn Hair, give it a swish, my boy. It's the most traditional combination among the Light families."_

_I obey, but the reaction is a violent one. I knock more than a few wands down from their rightful shelves. Ollivander gives me a suspicious look before stalking off in search of more wands. So I began the tedious task of trying wand after wand, but none seem to suit me. However, my annoyance is not noticed. Ollivander looks more gleeful with each failed attempt. _

_Finally there is one wand left untouched. Ollivander informs me that the wand is made of Yew, 13 1/2 inches long, and that the core is that of a phoenix feather. I pick the wand up and swish it, green and silver sparks quickly illuminating the shop. The feeling of power that I feel from it is intoxicating. If Ollivander wasn't present I would have basked in its glory for longer, but the eccentric man interrupts me. _

_"Mr.Riddle that wand is one of the most unusual combinations I have ever crafted. It was built for the Dark Arts – or the Defense against them."_

_Of course, I think. As if a wand that wasn't powerful would suit me. _

_Ollivander, however, continues, "Mr.Riddle, you should remember with great power comes great responsibility. I think it would be best if you remember that," he tells me with a somewhat stern expression._

_I coldly, but with a sociable amount of politeness, ask the eccentric wand-maker how much I would have to pay. My eyebrows shoot up a fraction of an inch when he informs me that the price is five galleons. I ignore the fact that, even though it was a paltry sum, I could hardly afford to pay a higher price. I stare at him in disbelief, and then I nod. I pay the man and leave, indignant at his presumptuous manner in trying to impose a principle upon me. _

_I resolve that I would only allow the truly great in my mind to influence me, so that I would become truly great myself. _

As I merely touch the wand, I feel a lost part of me return. I felt better than I had in years. I could perform spells but I could by no means travel by myself. I would have to rely on Wormtail to be somewhat competent until my rebirth.

A few weeks after his initial return, Wormtail displayed a presence of mind that I thought impossible from the man. He brought along a witch by the name of Bertha Jorkins, who Wormtail had somehow subdued. I learned many things from Bertha Jorkins, such as the Tri-Wizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts this year. However, the most intriguing thing I learned from her was that there was a loyal servant of his who would do anything to get me back, but the servant couldn't escape the shackles placed upon him. She couldn't say the name of my loyal servant or how he was chained except he wasn't in Azkaban.

There was a powerful Memory Charm placed upon her, however the means I employed to break through the Memory Charm broke her mind, and effectively ended her usefulness to me. I learned from Bertha Jorkins that Barty Crouch Jr was still out there waiting for a chance to serve me again. Barty would soon get his wish fulfilled, and it would require every ounce of cunning the man possessed.

I constructed a plan based on the information I acquired from Jorkins that would not only return me to a corporeal form, but render the bane of my existence, Harry Potter, completely helpless. The plan would also allow me to overcome the protection that the boy's mother had left for him. In the two years following my failure at gaining the Sorcerer's Stone, my view on Harry Potter had changed. In front of the mirror I had discovered my grandson, and it was far from what I expected. Instead of the cunning, resourceful, and determined individual I had expected, I discovered a foolish, courageous and chivalrous Gryffindor. It was obvious he was a so called Golden Boy Gryffindor. If Potter had decided to choose that as his destiny then I would be more than happy to provide him with a noble death worthy of a Gryffindor.

The plan had tried my patience, but it had been ultimately been successful. June, 24th, 1995, after 13 years of existence as a spectre, I had finally regained a body, but my victory had still been incomplete. I thought I would finally kill the one who was capable of destroying me, but it seemed fate was determined to keep the boy alive. This time though I could not chalk it up to fate, Harry Potter had not only escaped me, but a dozen of my followers. The boy had thrown off my Imperius, a feat unheard of.

Above all else, my own defeat in a test of pure willpower against the boy had floored me.

Willpower is constantly changing, and as the stream of light connected our unwilling wands, I thoughtfully thwarted the boy's attempt to force that bead into my wand as I considered what to do, applying just enough Will to maintain a stalemate. The boy's efforts, fueled by desperation though it was, impressed me. His absolute determination to survive, at any cost, was intoxicating, and I knew that his spirit was a kindred one.

Almost.

His admirable determination to survive was too narrow-minded, too dogmatic. He sought nothing less than to inflict a defeat in order to escape. There was no cunning involved.

More than wands were connected by the Priori Incantatum. For the first time I understood. How he had been shaped, how he had been devoted to the Light unknowingly through his heritage, just as I had been to mine.

I knew then. His heritage was of the Potters, and through his mother, the blood of Slytherin flowed.

It was _that_ heritage that would unravel and be known to Harry as the truth.

Then, the connection broke, and I watched my grandson, my last remaining relative slip through my fingers. The last of the spells fizzled, and the Death Eaters stared at me in dread. I said nothing, and Apparated to a cave, where I meditated amidst the crashing of the ocean waves.

After the boy's escape, the lesson that I had stubbornly refused to learn registered. I would not act against the boy until I learned the full contents of the prophecy.

This brings me here, the night of December 18, soon to be the morning of December, 19, 1995.

I would not suffer a Potter to defy me again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Obviously I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm simply playing around with her creation. If I owned Harry Potter Voldemort wouldn't be killed by a spell backfiring on him.

**Author's Note: **This is my first attempt at fan fiction. It would be much worse if it weren't for my fantastic betas Mors (known on here as deepthoughtz), Kolskit and Andromalius (known on here as Kasyapa). Without Andromalius' help, I doubt you would be seeing this. Now read and review bitches!

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_This brings me here, the night of December 18, soon to be the morning of December, 19, 1995.  
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**Chapter 2**

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Tonight I had possessed Nagini, entering the Department of Mysteries to see if I could hear the exact wording of the prophecy. I refrained from retrieving the damnable thing myself as the Wizarding World was denying my return, and it would be a shame to squander that convenience. There were other methods aside from showing up in person,

Astounding, how the Wizarding World chose to shoot the messenger. In its infinite stupidity, it believed the slander leveled at Dumbledore, the very man that was trying so hard to save them all, and cheered the removal of his titles.

It serves him right, I reflect with a vicious smirk. The very people the fool is trying to protect have turned their backs on him. He should have realized – a world as stupid as the one he protected would inevitably fall, regardless of what Dumbledore did or did not do. The same applied to his protégé: Harry Potter.

What Dumbledore suffers is trivial compared to what the Wizarding World has done to their boy hero. Ever since Potter's escape I have been referring to him as the Wizarding World's savior or as the subject of the prophecy, an enemy; one that has the power to vanquish me. Which makes him far more hazardous to me than anyone else. I have convinced myself that he is too far under Dumbledore's control for me to persuade him to join me. The same traitorous thoughts that assaulted me when I killed Lily had come back fervently, but I removed them by concentrating on the danger Harry Potter presents to me as Dumbledore's man. This allows me to quell any objections that I have to killing the boy. Though the feelings of assisting the boy still linger in some very deep corners of my mind as I observe what the Wizarding World is doing to him.

They had made Potter into some kind of standing joke, that no one gave any credibility to. It didn't end to that extent though someone in the Ministry had actually tried to assassinate the boy. I'm still unaware of the identity person who had sent Dementors after the boy as I would make them suffer for daring to hurt my grandson and my prey.

The Dementors are not yet under my control therefore the assailant's identity remains a secret. Yet I'm sure whoever sent Dementors after Harry Potter has definite ties to the Ministry. I doubt it is the Minister of Magic himself, because Fudge wasn't capable enough to think up a scheme like this nor does he have the courage to take such a daring step. However, the assailant is close to Fudge. It was a question of how they would be able to order the Dementors, who remained loyal to the Ministry.

The Dementors have proven rather… difficult, when I returned my initial thoughts were that the Dementors would be my natural allies, but they rejected my offer. The Dementors have become lazy, to my bemusement. They are provided with many prisoners to feed upon in Azkaban, hence they have become reluctant to leave the wizarding prison. The Dementors though hadn't not been able to finish Harry Potter off either as he had produced a fully corporeal Patronus and saved himself. I felt a surge of pride inside me upon hearing this news, similar to what I had felt many years ago when Lily Potter had refused Dumbledore as the Secret Keeper. As if my grandson would be easy enough to be offed by Dementors.

The Ministry, or rather its figurehead Cornelius Fudge had tried to work the situation to their advantage, but similar to most of his schemes this hadn't worked either. Dumbledore's intervention stopped the boy from being instantly expelled, instead Potter received a trial. I tried to make the situation work to my advantage, but my plan proved to be a fruitless endeavor, as well.

I ordered Lucius Malfoy to make use of his influence and money to have Harry Potter expelled. A wizard who was educated merely 4 years would post no threat to me. It had worked to a certain degree as Lucius had been able to poison Fudge enough about the boy to get Potter tried by the full Wizengamot rather than Amelia Bones. I knew Amelia Bones to be a fair woman and a competent Ministry worker, something of an endangered species, who would not accept any amount of galleons to punish an innocent. The boy was to be tried by the full Wizengamot on August 12. Lucius attempted to buy the majority of the Wizengamot, but many had been outraged at being asked to expel the Boy-Who-Lived. It took quite a few galleons from the Malfoy's coffers to keep it quiet, but the damage had been done as many members of the wizarding court had come to the conclusion that Fudge wanted Potter out of the way. In the end the Wizengamot's belief that Fudge wanted Potter out of the way and the fact that there had been a witness to the entire incident had saved the boy.

As I think about Potter my thoughts turn to the prophecy again, it bordered on obsession, something I learned long ago should have no place in the heart of someone like me. Many of my other plans have taken second priority to the prophecy. I have made several attempts at gaining the knowledge of the damning prophecy. Sturgis Podmore had been used to gain entrance to the Department of Mysteries, but he had been caught before he could retrieve the prophecy. The second attempt however had been somewhat successful as I learned many things that hadn't been known before about the prophecies residing in the Department Of Mysteries. Lucius utilized the Imperius Curse on an Unspeakable named Broderick Bode to retrieve the prophecy. Unfortunately that was when I learned that prophecies were only able to be retrieved by those who were subjects of the prophecy.

Again, I controlled the urge to demolish a village and massacre its inhabitants.

In this case either I or Harry Potter would be the only ones would be able to retrieve the prophecy. That was rather unfortunate for Bode as he became mute and temporarily deranged when he tried to touch the prophecy. Another pawn – an unwilling one to be sure, but a pawn nevertheless - removed from my service.

I chose tonight to possess Nagini, because I finally knew the exact location of the prophecy from Bode. I met Arthur Weasley as I possessed Nagini, knowing that Weasley did not work for the Department Of Mysteries I inferred that Weasley was guarding the prophecy for the Order. Dumbledore had deduced my plans of gaining the prophecy correctly. However, that was not what was bothering me at the moment. I felt a presence in my mind that didn't belong there as I bit Weasley. How that could have happened is beyond me? I'm amongst the most proficient Occlumens that had ever earned the title. My theory; it is an adverse effect of Nagini being my horcrux or else something related to that. Simply put there is absolutely no one powerful enough to invade my mind. As I ponder what exactly had transpired, I am disturbed from my brooding when I hear knocking on my study's door.

Whoever dared to intrude upon my solitude was certain to pay with somekind of punishment- this unwritten law was in place at all hours, but at night especially. I commanded the person to enter, and was surprised to see Lucius Malfoy enter. Lucius was a veteran and knew better to interrupt me whilst I was scheming. For him to interrupt me there would have to be an urgent matter to attend.

The senior Malfoy closed the door quietly behind him and quickly bowed, removing his white mask.

"Milord, you ordered me to tell you when I heard anything related to the Department of Mysteries. One of my sources within the Ministry has informed that Arthur Weasley was bitten by a poisonous of snake and has taken to St.Mungos," Lucius murmured with apparent glee in his voice that was not wholly cloaked by his outward tone of respect. "He still lives," Lucius said, with a more controlled tone.

The last part of Lucius' report certainly catches my attention; I know just how poisonous Nagini's venom is. One did not survive for long if Nagini bit thee. Thus the question begged to be asked. How could Weasley survive? The Department of Mysteries lay deep within the Ministry and was rarely checked entered by anyone other than the Unspeakables. For Weasley to survive he must have an extraordinary amount of luck or someone informed the right people at the Ministry before the venom could fully spread through the blood traitor's veins.

I consider whether this is related with the somewhat foreign yet also familiar presence in my mind or was this was merely a coincidence. Dark Lords did not have the liberty to believe in coincidences and I'm no different in that regard.

There was a way to find out and one simple sentence would do it. "Who informed them of Weasley's wound?" I asked calmly, but I was somewhat reluctant to ask. My instincts are informing me the answer would not be to my liking. They were rarely wrong, but for once I hope they would prove inaccurate.

Hope is such a foolish thing.  
--

"It was a…" Lucius paused, "a portrait milord. I believe it to be of a past Headmaster or Headmistress who informed the Ministry though I do not know the name," Malfoy finished cautiously. At every debriefing he was aware that if one did know everything about the situation he or she was very likely to be punished.

He was waiting for his reprimand. All that remained was learning the severity of it.

He hadn't expected the Dark Lord to question who had relayed the information of Weasley being bitten. He chanced a glance at the Dark Lord, to see how angry he was. What he saw made him consider the wisdom of Apparating away quickly. The Dark Lord seemed to be seething with rage and Lucius knew if that rage was directed towards him he would need more than one vial of Pain-Relief Potion.

--

As soon as I heard Lucius say the words 'portrait of a past Headmaster or Headmistress' I find myself infuriated that somehow someone had broken into my mind, but that wasn't enough whoever did this had also informed Dumbledore of my attack on Weasley. I push my simmering rage aside for the moment to get to the more important matter. How was it that someone broken into my mind? Who was it that had broken into my mind? There is a whirlwind of questions present that I regrettably had no answers to.

The perpetrator was not Dumbledore that much is uncertain. Even he did not have the power necessary to force an entry into my mind at this distance.

It was not his way. His was to react, mine was to initiate.

Then again I did not know what Dumbledore has been occupying his time with in my absence. Uncertainty fills me as I wonder whether Dumbledore had found some obscure, old spell that had enabled him to bypass my Occlumency barriers. The very thought of Dumbledore having access to my mind made me want to slaughter.

I master the impulse of doing so and force myself to calm down. I needed to examine what had happened and for that I needed to concentrate. "Lucius, leave. If I require your presence I will call you. Tell everyone else that nobody is to disturb me or the consequences will be dire."

Lucius Malfoy sighed in relief when he was ordered to leave it seemed the Dark Lord's wrath was not upon him, but on someone else. He exited quickly before his Master decided to change his mind. He informed those at the Dark Lord's headquarters not to disturb the Dark Lord or they would suffer horrendous punishment.

--

As Lucius left the room I cast plenty of privacy and locking spells, and delved into the confines of my mind. I arrive upon a metaphysical Chamber.

It was in this place that a person's magical core, their spell knowledge, memories and everything else which had significance were located. Muggles call it the brain; they are right in that everything a human does is controlled by the brain. Similarly a wizard's magic is functional only due to this Chamber as their entire being is located inside it.

Very few wizards visited their metaphysical Chamber, but its general existence is known to wizarding kind. To visit it you had to be somewhat proficient at Occlumency, the counter to Legilimency, but Occlumency extended far beyond that. True masters of Occlumency could not only shield their minds, but they could also hide behind false memories if they did not want to alert someone of their talents. True masters of Occlumency also were not affected by spells that affected the mind nor were they affected by such potions. Likewise they could build and arrange their metaphysical chamber to their liking.

However, I never had the chance to build my Chamber it was already done for me. Being Salazar Slytherin's descendant my Chamber was almost the replica of The Chamber of Secrets. Everyone in the Slytherin line had it as their Chamber, to the best of my knowledge none of the others ever discovered it.

It has been a long time since I actually stepped inside, fourteen years ago to be exact. After my return I briefly inspected it to see whether my Occlumecy shields were in place, they were, so I found no reason to enter the Chamber. However now the situation is different. I scrutinize the Chamber, it seems the same as it did fourteen years ago.

The Slytherin green and silver colors adorn the walls. Serpents are coiled around columns, but they are not here for mere decorative purposes. They are guardians to every door inside my Chamber. Behind every door there are different things present. Some doors house memories I have not cared to visit for a long time. After all holding over seventy years of memories did that to you.

The largest door in the Chamber harbors the part of them the wizard or witch deems most important to him or her. In the real Chamber Of Secrets this door houses Hades the basilisk resides. For me it houses my magical core. There is an an engraving on the door that leads to my magical core. The engraving is of a glaring Basilisk bearing down on a petrified army. However presently the aforementioned core is in a somewhat volatile state. My core is still stabilizing due to its size, my resurrection and the subsequent battle of magic and wills with one Harry Potter had made it more volatile. If everything had gone according to plan my core would be fully recovered by now and the wizarding world would once again be soiling themselves in their fear of its scourge. Instead I'm forced to lie low until my magic recovers.

The door on the right of the one housing my magical core has the words _Scientia Est Vox_ inscribed upon it, _knowledge is power _in Latin. I had inscribed it with painstaking penmanship upon the door myself. Being a master Occlumens my will is what takes place inside the Chamber and I chose these words. I have heard these valuable words uttered to foolish children many a times, but I was the only one who understood the true value and meaning of them. Hidden behind this very door is my wealth. A hoard of all the spell knowledge I have garnered in my travels, over the years, is accumulated in one place. Every spell that I know or have created myself all locked up in one place. A place too well protected for anyone to gain entrance to no matter how cunning or brave they might be.

The door on the left of the one housing my magical core holds all the secrets that no one would over gain knowledge of. Behind this door is the most protected secret I held: the creation and locations of my precious Horcruxes. I'm confident that no one has discovered the existence of my Horcruxes. The only one who might have suspected something was my former Potions professor, Horace Slughorn, and I already have several of my Death Eaters scouring Britain for the man who remained elusive so far. The door also holds the secret of my relationship with Harry Potter. The gate like its counterpart is protected too well for anyone to gain entrance.

The second door to the left of the one housing my magical core has the engraving of a regal, green serpent coiled around a wizard's arm, the snake seemingly conversing with the wizard. The door signified my talent of being a Parselmouth, the confirmation of being Salazar Slytherin's heir. For only his heir would be capable of speaking the noble serpent's tongue.

The second, third, and fourth doors to the right of the one housing my magical core are the doors that hold my memories. The memories of Lord Voldemort they start with the incidents of scaring the other kids at the orphanage, taking their few belongings as trophies, my beginnings all lay behind these doors. They end with my present time. Every witch or wizard has memories and those who can organize and place them where they need to be are the ones who manage to clear their mind.

The third door to the left of the one housing my magical core is devoid of any engraving and is empty. This is a door for Animagi, inside the door you found your inner animal. The obscurity of Occlumency cut off most wizards' chances of discovering their forms this way. It was empty, and had always been so for me. Apparently Salazar did not wish for his descendants to become Animagi, because he placed some kind of curse upon his line which would not allow them to become an Animagus. Though why he would do that has always been a mystery. While the loss of a great disguise was regrettable, I wasn't about to lament over it.

The fourth door to the left of the one housing my magical core is one very few people have present in their mind. It has the engraving of a hand nurturing a sphere of magic in its palm, particles frozen in their flight towards it. The engraving's significance; the aptitude for Wandless magic. Magically powerful wizards or witches have the aptitude for Wandless Magic, though they made up only a fraction of wizarding folk. The reason; not only did you need an extraordinary amount of magical power, but discipline over your mind. If you did not qualify for either one of them Wandless Magic would be impossible. Very rarely an extremely strong wizard or witch might perform Wandless Magic if they were on an emotional high.

At the very center of the Mind Chamber lies the door through which one can see what their physical body is doing. The room is called the Essence Room, and for once I agree with the scholars, the Essence Room is aptly named. It did not only trap a person inside it when they had the misfortune of being locked under the Imperius Curse; it trapped the person's very essence inside this room. You can view what your body is doing, but you are powerless to stop it. The feeling of helplessness that permeates from the victim is something I had come to relish. To feel their fear as they try to resist my irresistible will is intoxicating. There is another reason I'm quite familiar with this particular door, the reason, quite possibly the darkest of the dark arts; possession. Numerous times when I have possessed someone this is the door through which I control them. Exerting my will power over my victim I ingrain myself into their mind, and force them to do my will. Every time I release them, I plant a seedling of my influence. Undetectable, it rendered the unfortunate wizard or witch susceptible to the curse in the future should they somehow cross my path again.

If Dumbledore viewed my attack on the pathetic Weasley, it was only this particular door from where he would be able to view it. With slight perturbation I open the door. As the blinding light greets me, immediately I realized that something had gone very wrong.

My wand slides into my grasp. Whoever waited beyond that door was going to regret being there when I found them.

It was my mind after all, and I could imagine terrible things.

A vivid, blinding, green light, almost as strong as the sun itself, greeted me from inside the door. For a fleeing moment the horrible feeling that I have been tricked into walking across the path of Killing Curse overcame me. That fear was allayed when I realized that the light issued from a door in the Essence Room.

The Essence Room had several doors inside it. It lay beyond the chambers storing talents of gifts. This was the territory of what made a person, the very core of a homo-sapien – the behavior patterns, the desires, all things that make a person.

My knowledge of the mind is not very useful right now I realize, because there is a glowing door inside my mind, which for all my knowledge remained a mystery. Thus the question implored to be asked: What the fuck is this?

Rarely have I ever used words unbefitting of my stature, but this occasion warranted their use. It was well within my rights to use any language I deemed necessary when there was a fucking glowing door set in my head, one that I have never seen before.

The door was by no standards standard, because normality in the Essence Room meant that doors did not just glow a vivid color all of a sudden. They especially did not glow the same color as the Killing Curse, my personal favorite curse. The abnormality of this mysterious, vividly radiant gate did not cease there. The door is also pulsating with magic which I can feel from my vantage point; a safe distance away from the aforementioned entrance.

I try to remember the numerous occasions where I employed the Imperius Curse, for something similar to this occasion, however my memories brought no such event to my attention. Unless memory failed me, which is impossible because Lord Voldemort did not simply forget things. I have never encountered such a thing as a glowing door pulsating with magic inside the Essence Chamber.

I prided myself on my powers of rationale. Dumbledore had not barreled into my mind and vandalized it, so this was not a byproduct of a humiliating defeat.

While assurance that my mind hasn't been damaged is calming, for all the reasoning I'm still stuck with a shining door inside my mind. I contemplated whether to send a spell towards it. No, that would not be an intelligent decision on my part. I didn't know what the nature of this mystery is, and sending a spell towards it could prove be disastrous.

The only option remaining which is available to me is to go inside the door. My Slytherin instincts screamed at me not to enter into an unknown location. They chide for me jumping into an unknown situation like a foolish Gryffindor, but this isn't something I could just ignore.

Somehow through this mysterious door has given Dumbledore access to my mind. I had no doubts about my ability of stopping an intruder who dared to come inside my mind. There is always that shadow of a doubt inside me when a matter concerned Dumbledore arose. Though I loathe admitting it, I always took extra caution to be Albus Dumbledore was concerned.

If Dumbledore somehow gained entrance to the doors that held my secrets the results would be disastrous. It would be an irreparable loss; one more devastating than if half of my Death Eaters had been slain.

The secrets that I had so carefully guarded would be open for perhaps my greatest enemy to view. The very idea brought along a feeling I did not wish to acquaint myself further with; dread.

I quickly banished those morbid thoughts from my head and ponder what my next action should be. No matter what, I could not allow him entrance into my mind again. If the next time Dumbledore chose to engage me in a battle of wills then I was at a severe disadvantage with my magical core still stabilizing.

Even if I managed somehow to win the contest of magic and wills between us I would be rendered a huge disadvantage. All the time I had waited for my magical core to heal would be for naught, because my core would be rendered in a volatile state. I came to the conclusion; waiting for Dumbledore's next action is not an option.

I glance at the door wishing some hidden fact or clue leapt at me to reveal its nature or secret. To my surprise I find the glow to be fading to reveal an engraving on the door. Unfortunately I cannot make out the engraving from my current distance. I take a few tentative steps towards the door. My footsteps reverberate throughout the Essence Room in an ominous manner. Perhaps it is an omen of things to come a traitorous voice whispers. No, I did not believe in such superstitions, they were for weak-willed fools who allowed themselves to be paralyzed by every triviality.

I approach the now somewhat sedated door I see the engraving of a chimera. Not the Chimaerae that truly lived, but the chimera of myth, its lion head looking away, its serpent tail staring back at me. In my quest for knowledge I had devoured any ancient tome that was available to me. Similar to the way a hungry predator devoured its victim. Apparently now one of the ancient tomes which dealt with the Mind was going to aid me. A passage from one of the tomes came to the forefront of my mind:

_There are many engravings inside the Mind Chamber. Though perhaps none of them are as rare as the Chimera. It signifies a connection between two minds, and superstition states that it is the manifestation of the black and the white – the serpent tail is the half of the wizard representing the dark, and the lion head of the wizard representing the light. The ambiguous body between the lion and serpent represents the bridge between the minds of the connected wizards. When such a connection is formed it is often unpredictable, yet powerful. Combining unpredictability with power can make a dangerous combination, especially in a place as significant as the Mind Chamber. The causes for such connections are unknown; however it is strongly believed that people who are linked closely to each other can form connections. Although there was one case reported of a connection between two people after a failed curse. Sadly the man died twelve hours later after reporting the connection robbing us the chance of investigate this phenomenon further. Not much else is known about these mysterious connections._

I stood in stunned silence, contemplating the repercussions of a connection to another wizard or witch. The quiet around me mocked my inner turmoil over this unpleasant discovery. It was preposterous to think that I Lord Voldemort, the darkest of Dark Lords, a God among men, would share a connection to a mere wizard who belonged to the Light, but the damning and incriminating evidence was quite clear, in fact it was seared in my very mind as if by a brand. One that was unheated, so I did not feel the pain of the connection's creation, but made the shame all the worse to bear.

"Stop wallowing in self pity" a surprisingly loud voice verbalizes. Yes, I reckon that would be a good way to start unraveling this mysterious connection. I know enough about me to realize that I was not about to form any soul mate bonds, therefore a link of that nature would be virtually impossible. Although I do admit to being somewhat amused at the thought of having a soul mate, if only to see the unfortunate recipient's reaction upon discovering they were destined to spend their remaining life with their Dark Lord truly.

With the first option out of the way I can only assume that this connection was formed due to a failed curse. In my entire existence there was only curse that had failed, and that failure had cost me 13 years of living as a mere spectre. Could it be that I had somehow formed a connection with the sole survivor of the Killing Curse; Harry Potter?

The thought of a connection with Potter brought a truly feral smile to my face. A smile that had made wizards who tried to be brave against me, fail miserably. The kind of smile that made Light or Dark wizard alike soil themselves. While this connection is something quite unexpected, it would be a shame not to work it to my advantage. Using things or circumstances to my advantage has always been one of my strengths; I believe resourcefulness is the correct term for it. I had utilized it plenty of times; when I framed the oaf Rubeus Hagrid for the first ever murder that I ever committed. It was also what I used to take advantage of Lily's mistrust of Dumbledore. Resourcefulness was something that Salazar Slytherin prized in his pupils; it made terrible sense that Slytherin's heir would have it in abundance.

However my plans of using this connection to my advantage are quickly halted as an apprehensive thought enters my mind; what about the accursed Prophecy? I had promised myself I would not act against the boy until I learned the full contents of the prophecy. Could I chance another attempt at harming the boy without knowing the full contents of the maledict prophecy?

Years ago I would have laughed at the notion of I, the Heir of Slytherin, being defeated, but years of meeting Harry Potter had taught me the lesson that I was capable of defeat at a rather high price. So my caution in approaching this situation is understandable or I would like to think so. Did I truly want to enter Har...Potter's mind? If the boy was capable of utilizing the connection the two of us shared then did that not signify Potter's skill at Occlumency. However, my rational side quickly arrived at the conclusion; that a mere boy (even if it is the increasingly annoying Potter) could not possibly outsmart me. If Lord Voldemort had not discovered the connection earlier, then the chances of a fifteen year old discovering this connection were rather weak. It was much more likely Potter had accidentally barged in.

Fairly secure in the knowledge that Potter wasn't aware of our shared connection I step closer to the door. With a predatory smile gracing my features I knock on the door. After all it was the polite thing to do, and I was very respectful of my manners. Hearing no answer I contemplate whether to simply go in uninvited, it was rather ill-mannered of me to do so. I concluded that I would go in uninvited, courtesy be damned. It was Potter who started this game of barging into minds without invitation. Uttering "Knock Knock" with a pleasant smile on my face I open the door.

As I leave the realm of my mind behind, I stopped as my instincts told me that whatever lay beyond would prove to be crucial, pivotal in the grand scheme of things.

I resign myself to the truth of my instincts, and plunge onwards.

A/N: I don't like to do sentimental stuff like this, but I would like to dedicate this chapter to a classmate of mine who died recently. Keep her and her family in your prayers, if you believe in religion. Also there might be some changes (nothing major) made to this chapter later on, once my beta gets back to me.


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